


When Night is Falling

by baku_midnight



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Bilbo spend the night together before they leave Laketown for Erebor. To Bilbo, it seems impossible to have a joyous tryst as they approach such danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Night is Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a non-AU Bilbo/Thorin that was in character as much as possible to their movie characterizations, which are quite complicated and subtle. I hope I succeeded.

When they did receive the blessing of the people of Laketown, the festivities that followed were garish even by a hobbit’s standards. The whole party, Bilbo included, was dressed in the finest fitted armour, given rooms in a luxury inn, and presented a feast, all as a sign of good will that Esgaroth’s alliance with Erebor would remain true and profitable. It seemed as though the whole of the city’s guard, and some of the more influential types in town were in attendance, in fact the only face missing was that of Bard’s, but given his reluctance to have any more dealings with dwarves, Bilbo was not surprised by his absence. If he had a spare moment, he might go visit the man, but Bilbo was more concerned about keeping an eye on the happenings here, at the inn.

 

The company was good, the food luscious – if only for the fact that it was cooked in a kitchen rather than hastily warmed over a birch fire – and the music upbeat, but Bilbo was slightly concerned about the amount of _wine_ being made available to the party of dwarves, who had already shown themselves to have difficulty when it comes to restraint. Ale of all types, beer and wine and spirits from the Master’s own supply – or so he repeatedly claimed – flowed like rivers at the party, each one of the dwarves having already drank his weight in liquor and continuing to do so with uncapped enthusiasm. Bilbo, like most hobbits, was quite a heavyweight when it comes to drinking, but he still restrained himself, for mind of the trials that waited ahead. After all, the shadow of the mountain loomed upon them, its danger a persistent, eminent threat, pressing down upon the town with the weight of its musty clouds.

 

Not that a passerby would be able to tell as such from the festivities that went on around Bilbo, or the bright countenance of the company of dwarves milling about among the men, quite happy to be the centre of attention and intrigue. Bilbo filed off to his room to change and returned to find the 13 of them, Thorin included, cheering and toasting as though there was no danger before them at all. Bofur had his tankard-free arm linked with that of a man’s and was teaching him how to dance a dwarven jig. Ori and Dori were swinging their legs on the high stools upon which they were sat, while Bifur and Bombur ate bread and cheese upon another two. Balin and Dwalin were speaking with two guardsmen, and every so often a burst of raucous laughter would come from their direction. Nori was well out-of-sight, conversing with a human maiden – a server, probably, Bilbo thought as he pitied the girl, forced to make nice with the stranger as part of her job – and Fili and Kili were drinking and chatting pleasantly with human girls as though they had never held any sentiments to the unfitness and untrustworthiness of the race.

 

Bilbo was happy to see that the alcohol, if nothing else, had made the company more agreeable towards men, for he hated to see unfounded dislike between races. Bilbo now had made acquaintance of elves, men, and dwarves, and considered himself as having friends among all of them. _More than_ , in fact, he liked to think, and did so with pride as he saw Thorin start to approach him.

 

Bilbo barely found himself inside the room when Thorin started to push him back out, walking right into him and sweeping him into his arms, nudging Bilbo’s crown with his nose. Bilbo blushed and held Thorin’s arm that was around his waist, looking up at the king through his curls. He smelt the alcohol on Thorin’s breath, and saw the way his cheeks flushed beneath his beard.

 

“You’ve changed,” Thorin said, and it took Bilbo a moment to realize what he meant.

 

“Yes, I had to take it off, I could barely move around in it,” Bilbo answered, referring to the heavy armour gifted to him. The coat fell well below his knees, and the mantle, for goodness sake, trailed after him on the ground like the train of a wedding gown.

 

“It looked so charming on you, though,” Thorin replied, nuzzling Bilbo’s hair with his nose. Bilbo pulled away out of modesty, taking Thorin’s hands instead and setting them a respectable distance apart. Not that he worried what these strangers would think of _him_ , but Thorin, drunk or not, had a reputation to uphold.

 

“If by ‘charming’, you mean like it’s ‘charming’ when a child wears his father’s clothes,” Bilbo admonished, “I don’t plan on using it much, anyway.”

 

Thorin raised his eyebrows at him. “What do you plan on doing when we find battle?”

 

“Hiding, probably,” Bilbo answered, and Thorin laughed out loud. It was a boisterous, charming sound, so deep and sincere it made Bilbo’s knees weak. Oh, he was quite enamoured of the king, indeed.

 

“Hiding indeed,” Thorin chuckled, after a moment to calm down, squeezing Bilbo’s hands tightly in his own. The thick fingers were hot, positively swallowing Bilbo’s smaller hands, tugging him nearer with a near-imperceptible drag. “You _do_ stand out. Why, the people of this town can’t keep their eyes off of you. I’ll bet none of them have ever seen a hobbit before.”

 

Bilbo blushed at the attention of Thorin’s hands, his thumbs rubbing circles on the sensitive white skin on the inside of Bilbo’s wrists. Goodness, but he was captivating, even with the buffer of alcohol making Bilbo’s vision blur and his head swim. And he hadn’t drank that much, truly.

 

“They’re _captivated_ by you,” Thorin murmured, low and sultry, voice so deep it sent chills up Bilbo’s spine.

 

“I do believe you’re talking about yourself,” Bilbo mumbled back, unable to meet the king’s gaze lest he do something he very much regret in front of all of these people. His resistance, which was never all that high before, was wearing quickly away.

 

“What ever gave you that idea?” Thorin answered, and scooped Bilbo up into his arms. He bent and put his arms beneath Bilbo’s bottom and raised him up so that the hobbit’s legs were about his waist, and his arms around Thorin’s neck. Bilbo flushed deeper, trembling as his bare feet hovered behind Thorin’s back. He could feel the firmness of Thorin’s stomach between his thighs, and couldn’t help but sense the implication of their position.

 

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, grasping Thorin’s shoulders, his fingers going white in the chestnut-coloured wool of his coat. “The men will see.”

 

“Of course they will,” Thorin answered, voice impossibly low and greedy, it made Bilbo’s vision blur and his face heat up like a furnace. He let out a little groan and hoped that Thorin would take them to his room, already, and spare Bilbo the indignity of begging him to do so.

 

Thorin started to walk them out of the room, shifting his grip on Bilbo’s thighs and bouncing Bilbo higher up on his waist. Bilbo heard calling and whistling from some of the members of the company, Kili remarking it wasn’t fair that uncle was the only one who got his very own hobbit, and Fili whooping his agreement. Bilbo hid his face in Thorin’s shoulder in mortification, burying himself in Thorin’s coat and praying silently that their journey would not be long.

 

Thorin carried Bilbo to his bedroom and went inside, pulling the door shut behind him with his fingertips, so that he did not have to let Bilbo go. He turned and made as if to deposit the halfling on his bed, but instead stopped to sweep him into a tight embrace. In the privacy of their room, their touches could become more ardent, more furious, and Bilbo kissed Thorin immediately on the cheek.

 

The room was man-sized, and as such the bed was plenty big enough for both of them. Thorin turned them about and dropped Bilbo onto his back, where he gasped and bounced, his body sinking into the mattress, which was covered in homey quilts and cottony sheets.

 

Thorin pulled back and Bilbo reached out for him automatically, arms stretched out towards the dwarf king, who was pulling the fasteners holding on his cloak deliberately apart. Thorin tugged the strings loose from his mantle clasp and let it fall to the floor, and began to work on his coat, when Bilbo let out a small sound that was something like a groan, but more of a whimper.

 

“Thorin, please,” Bilbo whispered, “I’m…today…I’m not…”

 

He hoped to keep the desperation out of his voice but it was quite difficult to keep a level tone when his lover was just out of arm’s reach. Thorin looked down at him with intrigue.

 

“Surely you want to get undressed, first,” Thorin mumbled, and Bilbo shook his head.

 

“No, please,” Bilbo replied, “just…please.”

 

It was scary, the sense of need that suddenly came over him, and Bilbo felt himself trembling again, and not from the cold air of the city. He couldn’t rightly put into words how much he wanted Thorin at that moment, wanted to feel the firm body of the dwarf moving against him, lean stomach behind his thighs, powerful hips pressing into him...not to mention long hair tickling his pointed ears, beard scratching his chin – he just wanted _everything_ of Thorin, down to the last hair on his head.

 

Thorin climbed onto the mattress and atop Bilbo, putting his weight on one hip so that he could hold lay beside Bilbo and hold him. He put his arms around Bilbo’s waist and Bilbo’s hands went around his neck, a hand to the back of his head, guiding him to Bilbo’s holding gaze.

 

Green eyes were sultry and curious in the low lamplight, as Bilbo simply held Thorin there for a moment before bringing him in for a kiss. Their lips met as if rekindling a fire that was held in a long-cold brazier, and their delicacy turned to passion, Bilbo turning his head and deepening the kiss with one deft movement. Thorin met him in kind and sunk his tongue into the space of Bilbo’s lips, the wet hollow welcoming his intrusion and meeting him with languid strokes of his tongue.

 

The kiss soon turned wild, possessive, when Thorin slipped a hand over Bilbo’s chin and pressed down, holding his mouth open for him to plunge his tongue deep inside it. Bilbo moaned, brow furrowing with surprise as Thorin pressed him past the point of comfort until he was nearly gasping for air, fighting back with his tongue as best he could. Thorin’s mouth tasted of alcohol, and he probably couldn’t judge his own strength, so Bilbo forgave him, even as his hands curled and uncurled desperately in the folds of Thorin’s coat.

 

Thorin pulled away, and the look on his face was worth the stress, Bilbo thought deliriously. His ambitious blue eyes were wide with lust and his cherry lips red, matching Bilbo’s swollen mouth and rosy cheeks, no doubt.

 

“Captivating,” Thorin repeated in awe, leaning over Bilbo on one elbow, and tracing a hand down the centre of his chest, never taking his eyes from Bilbo’s. Bilbo didn’t know whether to frown or weep, the dedication in the king’s eyes was so complete and so sudden it made Bilbo’s heart feel like glass.

 

“Trousers, off, now, please,” Bilbo answered pointedly, reaching down and grasping at Thorin’s waistband, deliberately trailing the back of his fingers across the bulge beneath. Thorin gave a shudder and went to undo the laces, and Bilbo joined him in doing the same. Bilbo tossed his trousers and underclothes onto the floor, Thorin doing the same with a chuckle at the hobbit’s impatience.

 

“What’s gotten into you?” Thorin slurred, not too drunk to realize Bilbo’s mood. The hobbit just shook his head, reaching down to fist his cock. He kept his eyes on Thorin as he pulled, biting down on his lip to stifle a groan as he worked himself to a cursory hardness, mindful of what was to come.

 

Bilbo shuffled around a bit, shifting his hips so that his knees were parted around Thorin’s chest, Thorin settling in between his legs automatically, his hands going under Bilbo’s arms. “Here, in my pocket,” Bilbo said, hastily pulling a can of skin oil from a pouch inside his jacket and pushing it into Thorin’s arms.

 

Thorin took the hint well enough and slicked up two fingers, gliding them across Bilbo’s cock and making him jump. He led them down, further until he had one finger against his hole, and pressed just the tip inside.

 

Bilbo flinched, his whole body arching from the bed as he groaned, biting on his lip and panting hard through his nose. The finger slid in, just to the first knuckle and he nearly lost control, holding himself back from thrusting down onto the thick digit. His fingers twisting in the quilt barely kept him in place as Thorin probed him gently.

 

“Look at you,” Thorin murmured in awe, as he pressed the finger all the way in to the hilt, delighting in the reaction it drew from Bilbo. The halfling’s moan was a pretty little sound, lilting and honest, as his body clenched around the finger. Thorin felt himself growing hard despite the lack of contact to his own cock, shifting on his knees to take the weight.

 

A second finger probed inside him and Bilbo tossed his head back, letting out a long, stuttering groan. The two fingers thrust in and out, oil slicking their way, while Bilbo reached a hand up above his head to grasp the pillow, to try and regain his composure.

 

“I’m…ready,” Bilbo stumbled out, and Thorin responded by adding a third finger. Bilbo cried out that time with the suddenness of the intrusion, gasping with each thrust of Thorin’s hand. A thick, rough fingertip probed the spot inside him that made him see stars and Bilbo cried soundlessly, tilting his head back into the pillow.

 

Thorin fucked him roughly with his fingers until Bilbo could take it no more and squeezed his knees around Thorin’s ribs, choking on a gasp as the hand pressed in deep, to the last knuckle. His breath came out in a long puff when Thorin removed his hand, finally, Bilbo’s hole thoroughly stretched and warmed by the attention.

 

Bilbo still had his shirt and coat on, and Thorin too had to shuck his tunic roughly up onto his stomach to reveal his cock. It was hard and marvellously thick, straining up towards his stomach in a delightful curve that made Bilbo’s toes clench. The anticipation was growing thicker with each moment, as Thorin took himself in hand and stroked a few times, the red head bobbing pleasantly in and out of his hand as he jacked it, moving his hips in an anticipatory rhythm.

 

“Thorin,” Bilbo asked as the dwarf led his hardness just up against where Bilbo wanted it, teasing the rim with a few up- and downward strokes, slicking him further with precum. Bilbo squirmed his hips, then cried out the king’s name as the firm cock slid inside him in one slick movement.

 

Bilbo let out a wordless cry, letting his legs fall open wider and trying to get used to the stretch, feeling Thorin’s thick cock half-inside him. Thorin pressed in the rest of the way with a groan of his own, his grip on Bilbo’s thigh turning rough enough to leave red marks there in the morning. Fully seated, he paused there, watching the way Bilbo’s chest heaved with breath and his hands clenched and unclenched, trying to get used to the strain.

 

It wasn’t the first time Bilbo had taken Thorin’s cock, but he would never get used to the size of it. Bedding a lover nearly twice his size was probably an ambitious endeavor, but at the time, all Bilbo could think about was being so intimately connected with Thorin. There was no way for them to be any closer, connected like this, fit together like key and lock… Thorin began to thrust, slowly at first, but firm, his strokes reaching all the way inside, then sliding almost all the way out, before beginning the process again. Bilbo was content to lie back, legs open, pushing and pulling with his hips expertly with every movement.

 

The thrusts grew suddenly rougher and faster, and had Bilbo clasping at Thorin’s arms to get him to relent, to no avail. It was as if the dwarf’s self-restraint was tainted by the liquor he consumed, but Bilbo knew better than that. It was more, it was possessiveness, it was jealousy, fierce and powerful, driving Thorin forward. Thorin lifted his hips and pressed in deep, the new angle meaning he was hitting Bilbo’s prostate with every thrust, loosing a near constant stream of moans and sobs from him.

 

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Bilbo groaned, as he felt his peak coming along far too fast. He groaned as a particularly deep stroke had him bending nearly in half, back arching all the way off of the sheets. He reached down towards Thorin’s stomach to push him away, encourage him to slow down, at least, oh, _anything,_ but found his hands being snatched away instead. Thorin yanked his wrists above his head and pressed them down into the pillow, immobilizing Bilbo completely and continuing to pound wordlessly into him.

 

Bilbo found himself begging, _praying_ for release as he came nearer to his peak, closer and closer, Thorin’s brutal thrusts sending him towards the edge but not letting him spill over it. Gasping for breath, he felt lips meet his own and Thorin was kissing him again, utterly claiming him from both ends, making him whimper with the stimulation. Thorin’s hot mouth working into his own, his firm cock pounding into him, powerful thighs slamming against his bottom with every thrust…Bilbo felt hot, like fire, like lava, searing and raw, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow for some relief while Thorin fucked him mindlessly…

 

“Oh, _oh!_ _Thorin!_ ” Bilbo gasped as his peak came upon him suddenly, driving him higher up the bed with the impossible arch of his back. His cock splurted a stream of white up his belly, as Thorin continued to ride him through it, fucking him through the aftershocks and making Bilbo’s toes clench around his sides. Driven higher by Bilbo’s pleasure and the clench of his body around his cock Thorin started to thrust harder, faster, rhythm going erratic as he claimed his pleasure, fucking Bilbo while he gasped for breath, before pushing in deep, deep as he could go and holding there, spilling his completion over Bilbo’s insides.

 

Bilbo’s chest heaved with breath as he felt Thorin pressing inside him, so deep he thought that he could feel it in his belly, that if he looked down he would see Thorin’s cock bulging his stomach. He was delirious with pleasure, letting out a sob as Thorin started to pull away, sliding free, his softening cock drawing a trail of spend across the back of Bilbo’s thigh.

 

“Oh, oh…” Bilbo attempted to speak, moaning feverishly, knees trembling with the strain of keeping them up. He lowered his feet to the bed and only then did he notice Thorin was still gripping his wrists with a fierce intent, and called the king’s name to get him to relent. Thorin released him, almost shyly, panting through his climax and settling back on his knees.

 

Thorin rubbed Bilbo’s folded thighs, massaging them as he came down from his climax, breathing rhythmic and deep. Thick hands trailed up the thin hairs of his legs, making Bilbo shiver, Thorin’s fingers pushing up his tunic and rubbing his soft belly, and the deceptively hard hipbone beneath. Bilbo revered the attention, his body still pulsing with the aftereffects of pleasure, until he looked down at Thorin through his knees.

 

The king was staring at his body, rubbing forceful strokes into his hips and the joinder of his legs, his blue eyes hooded and dark. Thorin was looking at him like…Bilbo didn't want to think about it. His heart gave a lurch beneath his ribs.

 

“Thorin, are you alright?” Bilbo asked softly, and Thorin snapped quickly from his quiet reverie. For a moment he seemed like he didn’t know what he was doing, like there was a stranger in his bed beneath him.

 

“Yes,” he answered, removing his hands and smacking them against his own lap, to wake himself, and starting to get up. “I can leave, now, if you’d like.”

 

Exhausted as he was, Bilbo reached out towards Thorin’s arm, one small hand falling upon the woolen sleeve, “no. Stay, please.”

 

Thorin smiled at him, and it was that same bright, full smile, eyes full with joyous reverence, that made Bilbo’s heart clench all the same. He shuffled over so that Thorin could lie beside him, tugging out the quilt so that they could lie beneath it, pulling the edge up just over their hips. Against his side Thorin felt like a furnace, his heartbeat pulsing hot and steady beneath Bilbo’s chest as he lay on Thorin’s outstretched arm.

 

“Goodnight, and sleep well, for we have a hard journey ahead of us tomorrow,” Thorin said, and softly kissed Bilbo, holding there for a moment, just a moment, fleeting, but in that moment, their connection was perfect. But all too soon it was over, and Bilbo’s eyes slid open, looking up at the king with affection in his eyes.

 

“Could I have one more kiss?” Bilbo asked softly, and the smile that met him in return was worth all of the risk of this journey. He couldn’t help feeling like what was to follow would change their lives forever, and even if he was the only one who actually feared he might lose his life in that mountain, Bilbo was certain none of them would leave Erebor the same way they entered it.

 

Thorin moved forward and kissed him again, a soft, slow press of lips, pulling away with a smile.

 

“Maybe just one more,” Bilbo requested, and Thorin chuckled low in his throat.

 

“As many as you wish,” Thorin answered, and held Bilbo close for another kiss.


End file.
